Chapter 4

Sweet death of sense, oblivion of ill, Sleep! who from war, from time to time, dost bear Poor, wretched mortals, and in peace dost still-- Compose the discords, which my bosom tear, For a brief space, and kindly interpose Thy soothing wings betwixt me and my care. These eyes, which seem in love with weeping, close! And make my senses for a time thy bower, That whilst I sleep I may my sorrows lose. I do not crave that thou the wand of power, Three times in Lethe dipp'd, at me shouldst shake, And all my senses sprinkle o'er and o'er; Let souls, more fortunate, thereof partake-- Of languid rest a portion scant and slight, My weary, wandering eyes content will make. Now all the world is hush'd; to sleep invite The falling stars, and lull'd appears the main, And prone the winds have slumber'd on their flight; I, I alone--who will believe my strain? I, I alone, in this repose profound And universal, no repose can gain; Four suns, and moons as many, have come round, Since tasted last these wretched lights of mine Of thee, sweet cordial to the sick and sound. There on the rough peaks of the Apennine, Or where to Arno's breast in dower doth throw The Pesa limpid waves and crystalline-- With eye-balls motionless, and hearts which glow With zeal and faith, repel thee as a sin, Perchance some band of eremites e'en now; O come from thence! and for one hour within My bosom deign to tarry, then retreat, And in some other breast admission win; I call thee thence! but if thou'dst hither fleet From, where now Love excludes thy gentle might-- Love with its phantasies so bitter sweet,-- Avaunt, avaunt! full wretched is my plight! But honor, virtue I adore 'bove all, Nor to profane night's sacred hours delight, Descend on me, as on some mountain tall Descends the snow, and there, dissolving soon, Back to its pristine element doth fall; Or that same dew, which suckleth bland and boon Each green grass blade when morn begins to peep, That none neglected may its faith impugn. Before I die thy humid pinions sweep Above me once, but O to stain forbear The heart which still immaculate I keep! But thou com'st not, and now, with rosy hair From Ganges hastening, to all things again Their native hue restores Day's harbinger. Perhaps thou'st come, and ah, my cruel pain And wakeful thoughts thee ingress have denied Into my eyes, or hurl'd thee out amain. Since, blundering archer, thou dost shoot aside, Or snapp'st thy every dart my breast upon, To me thy wand be never more applied! Away, away! grim Death can blunt alone My miseries' point, and ne'er till life be spent I shall the hour of dear repose have won. O how the strife within is vehement! Now reason wins, now madness holds the sway; So much my ill can do, nor I prevent. O may this soul of mine from out its clay Fly to repose elsewhere! I'm sure to see My last hour once; and though far, far away The feign'd death keep, the true shall visit me.

THE MOORMEN'S MARCH FROM GRANADA.

An Ancient Ballad. From the Spanish,

"Reduan, I but lately heard From thy mouth the sounding word, That for me the town of Jaen In one night thou wouldst obtain; Reduan, if thou do the same, Double pay thou mayest claim; Save thy word perform'd I see, From Granada thou shalt flee, Banish'd to a far frontier, Where thy lady shall not cheer." Reduan, at the Monarch's side, With unalter'd mien replied: "Though the word I never said, It I'll do, or lose my head." Reduan crav'd one thousand men-- Five the Monarch gave him then. From Elvira's portal-arch See the cavalcado march: Many a Moor of birth was there, Many a bay, high-blooded mare, Many a lance in fist of might, Many a buckler beaming bright, Many a green marlote is spied, Many a ren aljube beside, Many a plume of gallant air, Many a rich-grain'd cappellare, Many a boot a-borzegui, Many a silken string and tie, Many a spur of gold there clung, Many a silver stirrup swung. All the men that rode that day Were expert at battle-fray: Midst of all that pomp and pow'r Chyquo Monarch of the Moor. Moorish dames and maidens high Them from proud Alhambra eye; And the Moorish Queen so grey In this guise was heard to say: "Speed thee hence my son and love! Mahomet thy Guardian prove! Crown'd with honor back from Jaen May he bring thee soon again."

THE FORSAKEN.

From the Spanish.

Up I rose, O mother, early On the blest Saint Juan's morn; By the sea I saw a damsel, Saw a damsel all forlorn.

Lonely there she wash'd her garments And upon a rose-tree hung; Whilst the garments there were drying She a plaintiff ditty sung.

"O my love, my fickle lover-- Where to find him shall I stray?" Up and down the strand she hurried Singing, singing this sad lay.

In her hand a comb she carried, All of gold, to comb her hair; "Tell me, tell me, gentle sailor-- Heaven take thee 'neath it's care-- Hast thou seen my fickle lover, Hast thou seen him any where?"

STANZAS.

From the Portuguese.

A fool is he who in the lap Basking of every smiling joy, Will each and all with fear alloy Of what some future day may hap.

Let him enjoy his present state; For he but double make his woes, Who midst the future's shadows goes To meet the ills of murky fate.

MY EIGHTEENTH YEAR.

From the French.

Where is my eighteenth year? far back Upon life's variegated track; Yet fondly oft I turn my eye, And for my eighteenth year I sigh.

Each pleasure then I took with zest, And hope was inmate of my breast-- Enchanting hope, consoling thing, The plucker out of sorrow's sting.

The sun above shone brighter then, Fairer were women, kinder men; If tears I shed, they soon were o'er, And I was happier than before.

The minstrel-wight of ancient day Wish'd that the twelve months all were May; I wish that every year I see The eighteenth of my life could be.

SONG.

From the Rommany or Gypsy Language.

The strength of the ox, The wit of the fox, And the leveret's speed,-- Full oft, to oppose To their numerous foes, The Rommany need.

Our horses they take, Our waggons they break, And ourselves they seize, In their prisons to coop, Where we pine and droop, For want of breeze.

When the dead swallow The fly shall follow O'er Burra-panee, Then we will forget The wrongs we have met, And forgiving be.

Footnotes:

{8} Gennet is a word of Arabic origin, and signifies paradise.

{10} No true Mussulman will receive any remuneration for communicating instruction.

{13} Allusion is here made to metempsychosis or the transmigration of souls.

{14} His relations.

{17} Goblins.

{18} Spaces of time.

{21} The principal banner.

{22} Wang Liyang and Siyan Ou were ancient kings of China, and mighty hunters, of whose exploits many extravagant tales are related.

{26} Cossack village.

{32} The knights of the German Order, who eventually christianized the pagan Lithuanians at the point of the lance and sword.

{33} Polish.

{38} The Mermaid.

{40} The war-goddess, according to the Northern Mythology.

{50} Wessel was the family name of Tordenskiold. Tordenskiold is an epithet bestowed upon the Danish Admiral for his prowess and heroism. It signifies: shield of thunder.

{51} This piece has already appeared in print, having been inserted some years since in the Foreign Quarterly Review, in an article on Danish poetry, of which the prose part proceeded from the pen of Doctor John Bowring.

{54} The river-god.

{63} The Northern Venus.

{65} The personage, who figures in the splendid forgeries of MacPherson under the name of Fingal.

{68} The Gaelic word for nobleman.

{72} Ancient bards, to whose mansion, in the clouds, the speaker hopes that his spirit will be received.

{73a} Written in the fifth century.

{73b} The British, like many other nations, whose early history is involved in obscurity, claim a Trojan descent.

{74} Awen, or poetic genius, which he is said to have imbibed in his childhood, whilst employed in watching the cauldron of the sorceress Cridwen.

{75} I was but a child, but am now Taliesin,--Taliesin signifies: brow of brightness.

{79} Ale.

{94} They had, it seems, made an image of Varus, and besmeared it with some high-smelling ointment, in the hope that Varus, by sympathy, would bear about him the odour of the same, so that the dogs might bay at him in his nocturnal excursions.